


A Passion For Dishes

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-04
Updated: 2006-04-04
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Dirty dishes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Trip was busy snuggling into his blankets when he heard a particularly loud squawk coming from the kitchen. Having heard that particular sound before, he knew his husband had discovered something highly irritating. Bracing himself on his forearms, he peered over the large downy comforter and waited for the terrifying visage of his lover.

Said image came in the form of one Malcolm Reed, former Armory officer of the Starship Enterprise, a 5'7" gorgeous package of anal retentiveness. Not unexpectedly, he stalked into the bedroom. From the look on his face, Trip knew he was in big trouble.

Malcolm unceremoniously dumped several dirty dishes in Trip's lap. Yep. Big trouble.

"What, pray tell, were these doing in the sink?" Malcolm growled.

Trip was rather confused by this comment, after all, where else would one put dirty dishes? But knowing his partner's obsession with cleanliness, he knew he'd better respond very carefully.

"Um, well y'see, those are dishes, and they are...ah...dirty, soâ€”"

"So?"

"So...they had to get clean."

"What does that have to do with putting them in the sink?"

"Huh?"

Malcolm narrowed his eyes.

Trip, feeling very much abused by this point lost his temper. "Well where would you rather I cleaned 'em? The toilet?" Wrong response. From the hard glint of Malcolm's eyes, Trip was pretty sure Malcolm was contemplating testing some of his new toys on Trip. And, unfortunately for Trip, they weren't the kind of _toys_ he liked. Better rephrase that. "Um...I mean. I was putting them in the sink so I could clean them."

"But you didn't. They were still in the sink when I went downstairs to make my breakfast. When were you expecting this miracle to occur?"

"Miracle?"

"Yes, the dishes magically cleaning themselves, as you neglected to do so."

"C'mon Mal. It's not that big a deal. I would'a cleaned them some time today."

"Some time today? And in the meantime you'd let them rot and stink up the entire kitchen? Oh, yes. Very logical." Trip was starting to get worried. You'd think a guy whose nickname was "Stinky" wouldn't be so disturbed by stinking dishes. "Get up." Malcolm said in clipped tones.

"Huh?"

"Get. Up." Trip gingerly got out of bed. "Now," handing the dishes to Trip, "Take these downstairs and wash them."

"What about the comforter?"

"You can take it to the dry cleaners like you promised to do last week. Now march."

"Fine, geez. Don't get your skivvies in a twist." Mal let out an irritated snort.

Trip made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. He would have liked to grumble about his spouse's abuse but figured that this was probably not the best opportunity. He took the scrubber and scraped the caked off remnants of the pecan pie he'd eaten last night.

"When, precisely, did you get a chance to abuse my dishes so dreadfully?"

"Last night."

"Last night? When?"

"After you went to sleep. Exerting all that energy gives me quite an appetite." Trip winked at Malcolm, hoping that flirtation might get him out of the hot water he was in.

"One would think, that if you had had enough energy to come downstairs, cut yourself a slice of pie, eat it, and put the plate in the sink, you would have had enough energy to wash said plate. And put it away. That's another thing." Uh-oh, Trip thought. Malcolm was starting to list past offenses. "You seem to have a problem with grasping that concept as well. Dishes do not magically float to the cupboard."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Man, oh man, Trip thought. Malcolm really needed to lighten up. What was the point in putting the dishes away if he was just going to use them again? He really needed to help Malcolm loosen up.

Trip carefully took the hose from the sink and rinsed the dish clean. Then, after putting the dish in the drying rack, turned the hose on Malcolm.

Malcolm sputtered, "Bloody Hell! What on Earth are you doing?"

"Fixin' to have me a water fight."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well then, I'll just have to see what I can do about that." Malcolm charged, but Trip hit him squarely in the chest with the spray of water. Malcolm backed up quickly, giving Trip a very nice view of the molded uniform over his tightly muscled chest. The water had outlined every rippling line, and Trip was having difficulty concentrating on defending himself with the hose.

Malcolm quickly dodged behind Trip and grabbed something from the corner, and before Trip knew it, a bucket of soapy water landed on his head. Trip had forgotten Malcom's weekly ritual of cleaning the kitchen floor. Apparently he'd been planning on cleaning after he'd eaten breakfast.

Both men, breathing heavily, stared at each other. They were both contemplating the next line of attack when they noticed the other's wet clothing molding to every line. Before Trip knew it, Malcolm had him pinned to the counter, kissing him passionately.

Trip felt Malcolm's tongue enter his mouth and begin a battle of its own.

Slipping to the floor, they rolled on the water drenched tiling, peeling soaked clothing to get to the smooth skin underneath. Malcolm suddenly pinned Trip to the floor and rose above him, their eyes met.

"Wash your dishes next time."

"Uh-uh."

"Uh-uh?"

"I'm rather enjoyin' the consequences."

"Really? Well then, I'll just have to make sure I prolong your punishment."

Malcolm leaned down and took Trip's smooth cock into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue and sucking long and hard on it. Trip squirmed on the floor, trying to find something to grab at for support, finally settling for Malcolm's head and holding that delicious mouth in place.

"Oh God, Mal, if ya don't stop soon..."

"That close, huh?"

"Just git in me, will ya?"

Mal gave one last lingering lick to Trip's swollen penis. He glanced up into his lover's eyes. "I like this 'hose' better." Malcolm plunged into Trip, and soon they both became too caught up in their mating to slow down. Trip grasped Malcolm to him, pressing close as he came. Malcolm only thrust harder, hitting Trip's prostate, pushing him over the edge again. Then Malcolm came, pouring himself into his lover, calling out his name. Finally, spent he collapsed on Trip's chest.

Some time later Malcolm levered himself up and looked into Trip's bright blue eyes. "Well, that didn't turn out quite how I expected."

Trip tilted his head to the side and said lazily, "Nope. Better."

Malcolm leaned in close, lips a mere breath from Trip's. Trip started to get aroused all over again. "Do you know what I want you to do now?" Malcolm said. He stroked Trip's length.

"What?" Trip said in an unsteady voice.

"I want you...to clean up the mess you made from that water fight. And then, gather up that dirty comforter on the bed upstairs." Malcolm winked

"Will ya help? It's a pretty big comforter." Trip said with the appearence of complete sincerity, except for the twinkle in his eye.

"Naturally."

Trip decided he really had to leave his dirty dishes in the sink more often.


End file.
